The Origin of Snivellus
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: The story gets darker as Severus goes to Lucius' manor for winter holiday, where he meets a strange man who says he's got the solution to the Mudblood problem.
1. Prologue: Broken Ragdolls

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, all except for Hagawthe Malfoy, Abbigale, and Moragona Connely (who also belongs to Sacred Magyck). These are characters I have created, and cannot be used without my permisson.

**PG13:** Language, sexual humor and thoughts, angst.  
  
**Flames are not welcome.**

**  
**  
**The Origin of Snivellus  
**  
  
**PROLOUGE**  
  
There is a house partially hidden by two larger homes, never seen by the Muggle eye.  
  
There is a house that is coloured in off- white paint, and I suppose that makes perfect sense. White houses are supposedly dream homes- little picket fences, bright green grass, the beautiful children and the dog. So off- white must mean the opposite.  
  
Especially since the paint is peeling and there is no Welcome rug outside the front door with the broken screen. The broken home.  
  
There is a boy inside the broken screen door, across the shag carpet, cowering in the hallway outside the dirty kitchen. He is very pale and scrawny, with a malnutritioned look about him and chin-length black hair that hangs in his face. He's pressed up against the sick yellow wall, trying to listen, trying to keep himself calm. He bites his lip and cradles himself with the skinny arms, grasping the wall with the grimy fingernails of a child who has not been taken care of. He listens.  
  
"Tell me where I went wrong!" hollers a male voice, deep and very furious.  
  
_"You didn't,"_ pleads the voice of a woman, not sounding weak, but very tired.

There comes a sound of a hand striking flesh, a bruising and vicious sound. The woman breathes out quickly, trying to conceal the pain.  
  
The young boy in the hallway squeezes his dark eyes shut and hugs himself so hard he swears he could suffocate himself right then and there.  
  
The man gives a mean laugh. "If I haven't gone wrong, it was _you_ then. _Your pitiful genes_ made _those pitiful children_ what they are. She's a whore, a bloody **WHORE**!" he shouts. Glass breaks.  
  
"She's seventeen, she's-" the woman begins, but he cuts her off with "**Were YOU** like that at seventeen?" He pauses, moving, pacing. "I tell you, we've got the worst luck of anyone I know. First that slag, then the boy? I won't have it any longer. I just won't have it. You're not worth staying here- _I don't know why I don't just LEAVE_."  
  
_Why don't you?_ screams the boy mentally.  
  
The woman doesn't answer.  
  
"You'd like that, would you? _Wench!"_ he spits out. "_You are your daughter_!"  
  
_**"I am nothing like her,"**_ she declares, nearly as meanly as him. "If Abbigale chooses to live her life like this, it is her own problem."  
  
There comes the sound of fist against flesh once more. "**NOT IN MY HOUSE**. I will **NOT **deal with an excuse for a daughter- a disgusting **WHORE**," he says again. "She's _dirt_."  
  
**"DON'T YOU SPEAK ABOUT HER THAT WAY!"** yells the young boy, like a reflex. When he realises he has spoken, he grasps himself even harder. His hands are clenched so hard that the knuckles are a deadly shade of pale.  
  
The man instantly stops speaking to the woman and marches out into the hallway.  
  
"_Well, well, well_, Severus. Here at your sister's defense again, I see?" He smiles tightly, a cruel smile.  
  
Severus slowly looks up into the man's gaunt eyes. "She doesn't deserve it. She's not a whore. She's not anything you say she is!" _Whatever 'whore' means_.  
  
"Like you could understand anything," chortles the man.  
  
Severus is wise beyond his years in magic and potions, but how would this man know? How many hours, cooped up in the dark, hot room with nothing but a potions set and thousands of books? Severus does not mind. These things serve as protective shields, and this man does not need to know.  
  
Without warning, Severus is lifted off the ground by the neck of his shirt, his ten year old body dangling awkwardly as he tries not to gasp for breath although it hurts so badly.  
  
The woman makes a face like she wants him to stop it, but she doesn't say. She never ever says.  
  
"Don't speak to me that way. You live in my house, you eat the food I provide, and you should be _thankful,"_ snarls the man, and as easily as he lifted the boy, he drops him on the floor. A grotesque thud takes place as the child makes contact with the chipping tile on the floor and gives a small cry of pain.  
  
Severus scrambles backward, ending up a corner. His eyes are wide and sad. He's too young to truly hate the man yet. He feels queasy every time he even thinks those words. He usually just pretends the man and the woman do not exist.  
  
"_I'm sorry_," he whispers, a quiver claiming his lips. He _is_ frightened of this man, though he'd never want to admit it aloud. How many times has he bitten his nails to forget the pain in his shoulder, his head, his legs? Covered his ears to block out the sounds late at night when they would shout? Punched his own pillow, wondering how the man could do the same to all of them?  
  
_Like broken ragdolls._  
  
As though he doesn't hear Severus, the man points his finger at the boy's right shoulder and makes a slicing motion in mid-air.  
  
Severus sobs in absolute pain and clutches the spot, a line of blood showing through his worn long- sleeved shirt. Tears sting in his eyes as he tries to swallow them away. He doesn't want them to show.  
  
"Don't- please, don't! _That's enough for tonight_!" the woman exclaims, wriging her hands as though she'd like to hug the boy, like to tell him everything will be all right. But she doesn't.  
  
The man is not pleased with this- she gets struck again and again until she screams that she doesn't care what he does.  
  
The young boy won't wait for another beating. He runs out of the room, but seems to forget what he's doing by the time he reaches the middle of the hallway. He can't suppress the tears any longer. Out they come, quietly. He sniffles and watches as the dingy carpet becomes a compete blur.  
  
"There, there," says a soft voice. "_Don't cry, they aren't worth all that_." She appears by his side, and lifts him up into her arms like he's four years old again.  
  
Abbigale carries him into the bedroom they share, and sits on her bed, hugging him tightly. He feels babyish and stupid, but at the moment, it feels warm and safe. Feelings not often felt. He then begins to cry hard. She sets him asside and he wipes his eyes, long legs dangling over the side of the bed. He stares at her strange, pretty face: the black eyes, the long straight dark hair, the clunky black boots and dark rings around her eyes.  
  
"They were talking again about- about you," he gets out, wiping his nose upon his sleeve.  
  
"When aren't they? Honestly, Severus. When are you going to learn? They'll never shut up about me- ever! He won't at least, and she'll go along with him." She stares at the door, the barrier. "**THEY MAKE ME SICK**," she screams suddenly. "I hate the way they treat you. Me, I don't care what they say. But you? They're seriously warped." Her eyes fall upon the blood. "Is- oh my fucking Salazaar, I swear, _I would kill that man if the thought of Azkaban didn't scare me so badly." _She slams her fist on the hard mattress, and then gets up to search through the numerous concoctions in bottles around the room.  
  
"S'over there," Severus says quietly, slowly rocking himself back and forth.  
  
She helps him heal the wound by placing a drop over the thin cut, but as always, there's a scar. Some things never wash away.  
  
In a moment of silence between them, yelling is heard once more from the living room. This time, it is about Severus. Abbigale kicks her dresser with so much force, it bangs back into the wall. Plaster falls from the ceiling.  
  
"This _shithole_!" Abbigale declares, then kicks open the closet, taking out an old suitcase.  
  
Severus sits up staight, excitedly. "Are we running away?"  
  
She bites her lip, staring at the suitcase as though it's the most interesting thing in the world. "I am," she states boldly.  
  
"You can't! Why?" Severus inquires quietly, his insides filling with dread.  
  
"I know my magic, Sev. I-"  
  
"You'll miss seventh year!"  
  
"I know enough, all right? If I leave her, I can make it on my own. I can get a job and provide for myself without sitting her and being fed, after being treated like a nothing and being forced t-" she breaks off the sentence. "Life will be so much better, Sev. Grades won't matter anymore, and I can do what I want!"  
  
Severus folds his arms, trying not to look too concerned. "Why can't you take me along? I don't understand why you're leaving alone." He bites his lip again.  
  
"You've been accepted at Hogwarts, Severus! You'll have ten months a year without them. Besides, you can learn so much there. It just wasn't for me, but I know you'll do an excellent job. You're a brain, Sevy," she teases.  
  
He usually loathes it when she calls him that, but now, he keeps remembering all the times they've had together and how he took all of it for granted.  
  
She's staring at the door. "I'll put this by the window. I think I'd better leave tonight, after I put you to bed." Her eyes say,_'I'm sorry.'_  
  
"I'll stay up all night, then!" he declares, knowing he's being very stupid.  
  
She laughs. "No, you won't. It's nearly ten thirty. You should probably get in your pajamas now."  
  
He doesn't want her to ever leave, but he obeys, removing the clothing and dressing in his old dim pajamas with the grey stripes. She's positioned at the end of his bed, and he slips into the unmade sheets, staring at the wall. This is so much like every other night that he really is forgetting that she's going to leave for a better life. He pretends that she's staying forever.  
  
"I'll tell you a story about Severus Snape, the grooviest bloke Hogwarts has ever seen," she grins, tickling his foot.  
  
He sniggers, kicking at her, but listens as she makes up a crazy story in which he is the hero and saves everyone from a disaster in class. He believes it- he can imagine it perfectly. She tells stories so vividly that even the wildest things possible seem like they could be true.  
  
Severus recalls finally falling asleep with her voice still tellling the tale.  
  
He awakes a few hours later, feeling strangely cold. His eyes grow used to the dark and he realises why- the window is open. As he stirs to open it, he finds out why he awoke. The man is standing over his sister's bed, as if she'll return any moment. Severus has awoken to him standing there many times before, and never questioned it. This time is like the others. He rolls over to his side, when he remembers that she's gone.  
  
Gone.  
  
The only one who truly cared for him. She was out alone, and even though he knows she's strong, he still worries for her, naturally.  
  
_If only I hadn't cried. If only I had been in the room with her, not spying on them. Then she would have had no reason to get so angry again. She would have stayed longer.  
_  
Flipping over restlessly, this thought weighs Severus down horribly. The man whips around, staring at the form of the boy for a moment before deciding he's asleep. He leaves.  
  
Severus wraps the sheet around himself tighter and wishes she would come back home.

**He'll _never_ see her again.  
**  
_From then on, things **were** different. Severus was completely dependant upon himself. He spent day after day pretending he was the only one in the house. When he had to leave his room, he did so quietly.  
  
When school started, he was not at all surprised that Abbigale's tale was one of pure fiction. If anything, the opposite occured. Severus was different- he'd rather study and keep himself occupied then hang out with the other children.  
  
He was put into Slytherin, and the man said that it was the only thing he'd ever done right. First year was pointless. Severus all ready knew most of the spells. It was too easy for him. The hard part was the social aspect of Hogwarts. He never really fit in.  
  
Along the course of the next few years, he became friends with a Lucius Malfoy, but they grew apart. Severus could never become close to anyone. It wasn't in his nature. The people at school made him feel this way. They made him feel like they could not be trusted.  
  
The name-calling and hexes grew more serious, until fifth year, when they reached a peak. Things were growing worse. Severus was unpopular and he could never forget it. He had given up completely. He resorted to ignoring everyone. They didn't matter anyway.  
  
Until sixth year, when one of them mattered.  
  
The boy had a strange feeling that this year would be different than the others, and he was correct. Madame Zabini **did** say he had a bit of psychic energy about him.  
  
Are you wondering how I know this?_

__  
_How I know the house he lives in?  
  
How I know the screen door?  
  
How I know the bruise on his arm, the cut on his shoulder, and the burn on his chest?  
  
How I know the man and the woman and Abbigale?_

_How I know the young boy so well?_

_It's really quite simple.  
  
I am the boy.  
  
I am Severus Snape._

_And now, it is my sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Care to join me?_


	2. In Which I Nearly Perish Whilst Ponderin...

**Chapter I- In Which I Nearly Perish Whilst Pondering The Origin**

****

_Intermediate Broom-Flying, third class, Mondays and Fridays_ reads my  
schedule, folded and refolded, dirty and spotted with bits of tea, in my top  
drawer. I keep thinking _'Why do you keep it? You know it by heart- it's  
etched in your notebook!'  
_  
And I also keep thinking, _'Why am I here?'_  
  
**The Answer** (more or less):  
  
_"Severus,"_ sang damned Professor Runson, the chirpy broom instructor.  
"Severus, you need to get involved! Get in shape! Embrace  
the light!"  
  
I stared downward, my greasy, ebony locks falling in my face as I tried to  
  
answer. "No," I snapped. "I only embrace the **darkness**." Well, at least I'm an honest person.  
  
She laughed. Seemed to think I was kidding. Seemed to think I was -_what?-_  
_amusing?_  
  
_She must have been in Hufflepuff._  
  
"Oh, Severus-"  
  
-"Why don't you just **_call me Snape_**?" I interjected.  
  
She looked at me, blind to me. "Why, I find that so inhumane!"  
  
"_Everyone else does_."  
  
She didn't quite know what to say, in her neat and tidy office, filled with  
tons of Quidditch awards and plaques. Photographs of former Hogwarts  
athletes I didn't have the pleasure of meeting waved from their expensive  
frames and did loops on their shiny brooms. _Those sad, sick, show-offs_!

The professor must have mistaken my look of overwhelming disgust for a look  
of aspiration, because next she said," You could have potential, Severus, if  
you'd only try!"  
  
I don't think people "can" have potential. I think they just _do_. I mumbled  
that at her, but she'd all ready decided that my goal was to become the next  
Quidditch star, because she said," It's going to do you well, Severus.  
Believe me."  
  
"Please don't call me Severus," I replied smartly, giving her my tightest  
smirk, and left.  
  
So, here I am. Because, obviously Professor Runson thinks that my skinny,  
pale body is so pathetic, that I have to spend four hours a week with  
sweaty, dim-witted jocks to make up for it.  
  
I don't want to be here.  
  
I don't want to get involved.  
  
I don't want to get in shape.  
  
And most of all, I won't embrace the light.  
  
_Even_ if you make me venture outdoors.  
  
I'll just wear dark glasses and pull a hood over my face to spite you all.  
  
_Ha ha ha ha._  
  
Except I don't want to. 

**Back To Reality **(I think)

"_Oy, Snape_! Where in the hell are you looking?" shouts out Sirius Black.  
Lethargically, I turn toward his direction, hovering eighty feet up in the  
air, not giving a kappa's left fin if I was supposed to guard our goal post  
in order for the game to work. Who are rules for, anyway? Well.. Quidditch rules, anyhow.  
  
"I'm really _so_ honoured that you spoke to me, Black," I sneer," but to be completely  
honest with you, _I'm_ looking down at the ground where I _should_ be studying  
for the History of Magic exam that I have next period. Frankly, that matters  
more to me them zooming about like a crazy dunderhead, trying to score  
points with Gryffindors and such, attempting to win a game that will in _no  
way, shape, or form_ advance me forward in life."  
  
"_Snivellus,"_ is his guffawing reply, shaking his head so his cute little  
ponytail can shake and shame my hair which sits, numb, and unwilling to  
move.

So, maybe I lied in the 'dim- witted jock' quip, because Black really is not a jock. He's more of an _"I'm- Too- Cool -For- Anyone- Oh, and- I- Listen- to -Rock -Music!"_ kind of guy, and he shames the glorious colour of ebony by donning it often.  
  
He grins at me with perfect teeth and perfectly shaped facial features.  
  
Ah, yes, Sirius Black, we are all watching you. _You_ and your perfectly  
blue denim jacket, _you_ and your sly smile, _you_ and the way you impress all  
of the girls by simply getting one lousy Transfigurations question right.  
**You.**  
  
"_Snivellus,_ after class. Just wait." He nods, and I know that after class  
I'll have to skip my shower again, or face the wrath of the Marauders and  
their fists.  
  
_'Wait. Did you hear anything I said?'_ I want to scream in his face. _'Are you  
so self- absorbed that you can only answer back with some stupid grunt of a  
threat? And why, may I ask, do you warn someone that you will be doing something instead of just doing it? Wouldn't you rather be sneaky about it? Maybe it's just because I am a Slytherin, but I really find that pathetic.'  
_  
It's not the first time someone has completely ignored my keen choice of  
words to evoke a fight. Why can they not leave me in peace?  
  
And what's with the **Snivellus**? I mean, I'm not surprised. I've been called  
that for four years, since I was twelve. And still I wonder _'What does it  
mean?'  
_  
I don't **snivel** very often. Sure, I might have cried when I was little  
and still fairly oblivious to the fact that no one cares, but hasn't  
everyone? I know I'm complaining a lot about the broom flying, but that's  
normal for a sport-retarded social outcast, isn't it? And I certainly don't  
**Snivel** you and your friends, Black, if that's what the hell you mean.

**Snivellus.**

**Snivel, us**.

Is this a command, perhaps?

Would you like me to **Snivel** you?  
  
At you?  
  
For you?  
  
To you?  
  
Among you?  
  
Because I know I don't all ready. I do everything in my power to stay away  
from you. Why would I ever want to **Snivel** you?  
  
And how does one go about this so called **Snivel**? Shall I walk up and sniffle and groan in your face? Should I whine, mutter obnoxiously, and complain? Would you be happy then, damn it? Would you stop telling me **Snivel** us? Would you-  
  
Wait... What if a snivel is some sort of **disgusting** thing, like the types of  
topics Lucius Malfoy tries to fascinate me with?  
  
_"Guess what I found under my brother's bed over holiday!?"  
_  
**_"Please leave me alone! There's a potions test tomorrow; I'm studying. You  
should be as well!"_**  
  
_"No, it's really funny! Pretty disgusting, too!"  
  
**"Do you ever listen to anyone, or do you just adore annoying the hell out of me?"**_  
  
_"I snuck into Hagawthe's bedroom since he was out with his mates. I was only there to retrieve back this book of mine he happened to be borrowing. Borrowing? Ha! More like keeping for a ransom, I tell you!"_  
  
_**"What if there were a chemical fire in Potions? Would you listen to us if we yelled at you to get out of the room? Or would you sit there blathering on to yourself and fry?"**_  
  
_-" So I figured since he wasn't there, I could take a peek around, right?"  
  
**"..guess I know the answer to that question!"**_  
  
_"Well, I'm looking under his bed and there's this box, and I simply had to look, right, because- well, wouldn't you? So I opened up the top, and you WILL NOT believe this, Snape, this is the nasty bit-"  
_  
**"Three full cups of rodent hearts, eight legs of spider, a sprig of  
Wolvesvine... Not listening, not listening..."  
**  
**NO**, Sirius Black, I would definitely **NOT** like to **Snivel **you. _Lucius' brother  
_just might, judging by the things he keeps underneath his bed, so why don't  
you tell him **Snivel us**?  
  
I shake my head to myself, head swarming with inquiries for Siriusly An Asshole and his mates.  
  
And this is the time in which I get hit on the nose with a Quaffle.  
  
I'd like to say nothing happened- that I mysteriously didn't feel a thing  
and everyone in my Flying class regarded me from then on as a hero who was  
untouched by Quaffles.  
  
But, I don't feel like lying.  
  
It hit me straight in the nose. Have you ever had that happen to you? The  
pressure was so hard that I, obviously, was propelled backward from the  
force, slamming my curved back against my old broomstick. The broomstick I've been assigned to this semester has character, and a temper. It doesn't like being slammed against.  
So is it any surprise to say that in an instant I was sailing through the  
air backward, and woke up in the hospital wing a little bit later with  
blood matted in my hair and drying on my face like some bizarre war paint  
applied whilst performing Gothic rituals? **Gothic rituals:** Ever so fun, by  
the way, but that isn't the point.  
  
This state was bad, but what was absolutely worse was that my entire class  
was crowded around the hospital bed, dear Runson in front, wringing her  
hands.  
  
_"You're awake!"_ she squeaks, and then calms herself by saying firmly,"  
You're all right. Ready to get back out there and score some  
points for your team!?"  
  
I moaned nonsensically.  
  
"_Professor_," Sirius begins haughtily, snorting," Snivee wasn't watching our goalpost- I  
told you that! He doesn't give a damn whether or not we go on! We told you he  
doesn't care! Let's go back without him. We've got about a half an hour of good playing time  
left!"  
  
"Well said, Pad," James Potter puts in. James Potter is, without fail,  
always worse than Black- and that's not a good thing. He's vainer, jockier,  
and more obsessed with tormenting me. "Snivellus is such a nerd that he can't  
even keep a Quaffle out of a goal! How sad is that!? Snivelly, the only  
use for you is Bludger practice! Besides, I want all of you to see the new moves I practised yesterday. They're bloody rad."  
  
"Ah, thank you, Potter! How refreshing that you can always come up with  
something so completely brainless that it is actually entertaining!" I manage to get out.  
  
"Get stuffed, Snivellus!" Sirius growls, as James says," He can't! That's his problem!"  
  
_Hee hee hee. Ha ha ha. _  
  
Oh, how marvelous. Simply delightful.  
  
Potter, of course, is the leader of this little club-type thing, the Marauders. I'm not certain if I grasp the point of the Ma-FRAUD-ers (as Lucius and I dubbed them in third year), but what I've figured out is that I really hate them.  
  
For club activities, they dawdle around, annoying innocent people and trying to get  
girls to flirt with them. Except for Remus Lupin, who is kind of queer (not  
that there is anything wrong with that!) and just tags along to smile at  
Black hopefully and offer advice that no one really listens to. But the most  
pathetic of the group is Peter Pettigrew, a blond little mouse-faced drip  
with the charm and personality of a pulverized piece of lunch meat. More  
girls don't flirt with him than they don't flirt with me, and that's bad,  
considering I've never really been flirted with. (Does it count if a girl  
asks for a quill, and then comments on how it's a bit defective? _What?_ Of  
course it does, what do you mean?)  
  
Back to reality again. Wait. _Is_ this reality? Because it's hard to tell anymore. This whole thing could be one _looong_ nightmare, and one of these mornings, I'll wake up in a mansion with parents who have plastered-on smiles, saying things like _"You're the son we always wanted, Severus."  
_  
Yes, right. Another false hope.  
  
Professor Runson is still wringing her hands. She agrees with them, as does  
the rest of the class (laughing and distributing High Five's), but she  
doesn't want to show that she does. I wish she would. Covering it makes it  
worse.  
  
"Go on," I manage to get out confidently. "I don't think I could continue."  
  
"_Wusssssy,"_ Potter calls shrilly. "A bit of blood can't hurt anyone, eh? 'Specially a vampire like you!"  
  
"Get away from me or I'll drain your blood," I hiss. Might as well play along.  
  
"Now, now, Severus," Runson shakes her finger.  
  
"It's** SNAPE**."  
  
Finally, the lot of them shuffle off to finish their game, Black whispering  
some insult before going off, Potter shoving his hand through his hair and  
laughing at me.  
  
So, here I am, alone. And my book bag's down by the Quidditch pitch, so I  
guess I can't study for my quiz. Damn them. Damn them all.  
  
I twitch my toes to see if they work. Sing a little Led Zeppelin, to prove everyone that Siriusly Lacking In Intelligence is not the only one who knows a little rock. Oh, and with air  
guitar.  
  
_"Bum, bum, bum, dum, dum, dum, bum! Tweak, tweak!  
  
Been dazed and confused for so long it's not true!"_  
  
Stop.  
  
Realise what I'm doing.  
  
Try to sensibly go over the four ages of the nymph and goblin rebellion.  
  
It's hard to do without notes.  
  
There's nothing to think about, really.  
  
Except the origin of Snivellus.  
  
And I decide, in the dark of the hospital wing, waiting for Mistress  
Pomfrey to arrive and scold me, that if a Snivel meant a violent punch or  
kick to the face or knees, I'd gladly **Snivel you**, Marauders.


	3. An Account of the Sisters Black

**Chapter II- An Account of the Sisters Black**  
  
Pomfrey finally does arrive, and tut at me. But what really matters is that she washes the blood off of my face and lets me stick my head in the basin to rub the particles out of my stringy hair. She then insists that I take a quick bath in the Wing's small tub, most likely not for the sake of blood,but for the sake of my humiliating body odor which is another reason why I despise broom flying. For this, I will forever give my thanks to her for her beautiful timing.  
  
She lets me use a robe while she prepares some sort of inhalant that is supposed to make my burning nose feel better. I sit stiffly upon the hard mattress, numerous dates running through my head as I pray that Professor Binns will at least let me have five minutes to study, given the  
circumstances.  
  
At this precise moment in time, there comes a smooth knock at the infirmary door, followed by a voice asking,"_Hello_?", and then lastly, a louder voice yelling," **Ah, you scaredy! Let's just go in!**"  
  
The door flies open, and instantly, my heart races.  
  
It isn't my fault I have these feelings, these dreams, these thoughts.  
  
It's not me at all.  
  
It's the Black Sisters. All three of them, standing in the doorway, three perfectly curved silhouettes.  
  
Mistress Pomfrey looks agitated. And I don't blame her.  
  
The eldest, Bellatrix Black, strides in first. "**Hey, Sevvie**," she greets coolly. Her black ringlets fall down her shoulders and her throat shows off an amber coloured amulet.  
  
Pomfrey glares.  
  
Next is Narcissa Black, fifth year, moving slowly and dreamily. "_Hello, Snape_," she smiles, throwing back glowing blond bangs. Her skirt is drooping unusually and her makeup seems to have been applied on a whim.  
  
Pomfrey sighs.  
  
Last is Andromeda, youngest, a puzzle. Moving almost robotically. Nods, business-like. "Good afternoon, Severus." Her dark hair drawn up into a bun, and a loaded back pack over her shoulders and mine in her hands.  
  
Pomfrey gapes.  
  
"What are _you_ lot doing up here?" I question.  
  
"Exactly what_ I _would like to know!" Pomfrey snaps. Whatever she's just mixed bangs loudly. "Don't you girls have anything else better to do!? And why, must I ask, do you move in a _herd_?"  
  
Bellatrix grins widely. "We're not cows, or something, Pom. We're a pack. We're fierce lionesses! **RAWR**!" She scratches the air with a clawed hand. "Lay off the inquisitions, eh?"  
  
"_What she means is_-"Andromeda adds quickly-" that in all actuality, we did notintend to travel together. I am in Severus' History of Magic class, and I heard from Rory Bulstrode that during Flying class there was a bit of accident, so I decided I should assist a peer in need. That is why I've got his book bag. So he can study for our test next period, after lunch."  
  
As always, I feel stupid by the time she's finished. She's fourteen, in nearly all sixth year classes. It doesn't boost my ego that much.  
  
"And _I_," Narcissa continues, smiling brilliantly,"was coming back from-" she stops, looking at the ground and thinking through what she's about to say. "I was coming back from _talking_ to Lucius Malfoy- that's it! _Talking_ to him. About- erm- _things_! Things that people talk about!" She pauses. "He's my _boyfriend_, you know," she smiles, the pound of gloss on her lips winking. "I saw Andy here making her way up to visit Snape, so I figured I'd come along as well."  
  
Bellatrix realises it's her turn to make an excuse. "I'm here because MuggleStudies is a shitty class. It's about Muggles! And I didn't sign up for it, either. Our father said I could skip it any time I wanted."

"**LANGUAGE, MISS BLACK!**"  
  
"Daddy won't let _me_ skip Arithmancy," Narcissa pouts, glaring at the floor.  
  
"I certainly wish I'd skipped Flying today," I roll my eyes. "That's why I'm here."  
  
"It's good for your colouring, Severus," Andromeda tells me. "The outside word," she adds, a hinted intonation that she thinks I have not heard those words before.  
  
"Oh, shut up," Bellatrix says happily. "Broom flying is for Gryffindor gits who want to show off, not our _Schnapey_," she finishes in baby talk.  
  
Pomfrey looks displeased. "Quidditch means school spirit, Miss Black. I wish you'd try to respect _tradition_, at least."  
  
Narcissa snaps to attention. "What did **I** say?"  
  
Pomfrey sighs and disappears behind the little curtain.  
  
Bellatrix and Narcissa giggle, and then both sit down at the end of my bed. I have a feeling that this will be (the first and) the last time that I will ever use the words 'Bellatrix', 'Narcissa', and 'bed' in the same sentence.  
  
This situation would have given me a pleasurable heart attack if only it had occured last year. My crush on the Black Sisters has calmed down considerably since my hormones cooled a bit. I used to be infatuated with Bellatrix- that is, until I realised that she really doesn't care whether I exist or not. She doesn't do anything in particular to me- she just isn't...

I come out of my thoughts as Bellatrix begins to speak.

"So, what happened to you?" Bellatrix questions, flopping back so her curls spread across the sheets. Narcissa cocks her head to the side and looks concerned.  
  
"What happened when?" she inquires, obviously very befuddled.  
  
Andromeda rolls her eyes. "Did you not hear what I told you? Broom flying class?"  
  
The others look blank. I clear my throat.  
  
Bellatrix laughs. "Well, I wasn't listening, was I? Tell us why you're here, Sev."  
  
"Your cousin was threatening me again, and I lost my train of thought, and I got hit with a Quaffle," I explain gruffly, wondering _how she could start a conversation after hearing me say I got hurt in broom flying _and then** forget **I'd ever said that.  
  
Bellatrix groans, as Narcissa looks murderous. "That _ass_!" she hisses.  
  
Yes, the lovely Black Sisters are indeed relatives of _"cute denim shirt and bands written on mypants which I've purposely cut holes in"_ boy, aka Sirius Black. Bellatrix wishes he'd go die somewhere, Narcissa is always screaming at him because he does things such as stealing one of her bras and then making an appearance in the Great Hall screeching _"Helloooo! I'm_ _Narceeeeaassaaa!",_ but Andromeda seems to like him. She never really says, though.  
  
"I'll speak to him, Severus," Andromeda nods, as Bellatrix gives a loud shout of a laugh.  
  
"And do you think he'll listen? Sirius is just hopeless. Beyond saving," Bellatrix snaps. "You'd have to be seriously messed up in the mind to even consider being friends with that Potter prat."  
  
"Oh, Bellie, you think he's gorgeous! Admit it! I saw you checking his bum at the last Quidditch match!" Narcissa grins wryly. I swear, her brain completely disapparated after Lucius Malfoy began paying attention to her!  
  
"WAS NOT!" yells Bellatrix.  
  
I make a face. "Remember my condition, Narcissa. I might have to be sick if you keep talking about Potter's backside."  
  
"We all might be," Bellatrix adds, looking around. Her eyes fall upon her watch," Oh damn. It's time for Transfig. I had better get a move on."  
  
Andromeda looks slightly amused, which is uncommon. "You? Attend Transfigurations? You must be in jest!"  
  
Bellatrix smiles calmly. "I told Lestrange I'd meet him in the Astronomy tower." She winks. _"I'm off to my favourite subject of all!"_ she cries out, throwing her arms in the air, amulet sparkling. Andromeda coughs rigidly.  
  
I fold my arms tight around myself. Said Rudolphus Lestrange is Bellatrix's boyfriend. He's a macho kind of bloke- at least, he thinks he is. He spends so much time trying to be tough that it makes me wonder when he has time for doing normal things, like brushing his teeth. The thing is, Bellatrix has got him so completely controlled that it's amusing to me that he even thinks he's _capable_ of making his own decisions. I really loathe Lestrange. He's a bully. His arrogant manner drives me up the wall. I don't have tolerance for arrogrance.  
  
Unfortunately, my feelings must be easily misinterpreted, because Bellatrix says," Oh, Sevvie. You can still think about me on your own!" After this totally embarrassing (and normally untrue) remark, she strokes my knee, laughs and hurries on her way.  
  
Narcissa waves a giggling goodbye and says something about Charms class.  
  
There is an awkward silence.  
  
"I apologise for that, Severus," Andromeda tells me in a most serious tone, which almost makes it worse. "You never do know what she'll come up with." She looks away. "Well, here are your books," she puts in quickly, handing over my black bag which is falling to pieces.  
  
"Thanks." I grab it, and set it on the bed beside me.  
  
Andromeda looks down. "It seems you won't be returning after all, though, so you'd better use this time wisely. Which means I'd better leave you." She backs up.  
  
"Right. Well, best o' luck on the test."  
  
"Thank you. Talk to you later?" she says, and then ducks through the covering, hurrying out of the infirmarary.  
  
And as always, I am completed bewildered upon the departure of the Black Sisters.

I feel my knee where Bellatrix touched it, wondering if a girl will _ever _want to do that willingly- not simply joking around.

Most likely **not.**


	4. All Hail the Slytherin Prince

**Chapter III- All Hail the Slytherin Prince**

"What were you off doing all day, I would like to know?" demands Lucius Malfoy in one of his loudest tones, Volume 897. (For the record, 1002 is the worst.)  
  
Lucius Malfoy is a prime exaggerater. He's won at least fifteen awards, as he's gotten himself out of many things: Potions finals _("Owwwwiieeee... That just burned my haaaaaand!"),_ a project due in Care of Magical Creatures _("But I mistakenly drank my Sleeping Draught mix for potions instead of my pumpkin juice last week and I've been EVER SOOOO TIRED everiiiiiie niiiiiiight!")_, and untimely death, to name a few.  
  
Now the point of bringing up his history is quite simple- I'd only been out of class for the rest of broom flying, part of History of Magic (I believe I aced my test, by the way!) and lunch. But skipping lunch is not all that rebellious, you know. And he was acting as though I'd skipped out of school pretending to be dead.  
  
All ready irritated, I sit across from him at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for supper. "_All_ day?" I repeat, staring at him, trying to refrain from insulting the poor, demented Malfoy.  
  
"Well, I didn't see you in the hall before fourth!" he almost shouts out, voice now at Volume 909. "_Where were you_? Answer me **now**!" He stares out at me from behind narrow slits.  
  
"If you must know, I-"  
  
"Took a little tumble off your broom?" finishes Lucius. "Yes. That's what I heard. How perfectly _sad_," he sneers. "Were you very hurt?"  
  
"NO," I say defiantly. "Not really at all, you know. They just kept me out of class because Runson might have gotten in trouble if many people thought I'd gotten real bloodied." Although I do not condone it, lying is quite helpful at times of great need.  
  
Lucius looks highly pleased with this excuse. "Brilliant! You should write your parents. Did you know that last year, Hag got the school _convinced they'd poisoned him?_ They attempted to send our father quite a large sum of money, except Hag gave them the wrong address, and somehow kept all of it!" He smiles brightly at me and stabs a bit of roundstreak with his fork.  
  
Lucius is filled with stories like this one. I'd like to say it never gets tiring, but I'm not that great of a liar.  
  
I pour gravy on my mashers and try not to look too disgusted. "Why would your brother try to get more money?"  
  
"Our Father keeps a fairly close watch on how much we spend, and what we spend it for. Hagawthe most likely wanted something that he did not want to be caught having," hints Lucius, in an ironically happy tone.

Lucius' brother is a very odd person. He and Lucius are four years apart, and they have certain similarities in appearance, though Lucius takes after their father much more. Hagawthe has their mother's dark eyes and darker hair. They have the same conceited little smirks, though. Hagawthe is obsessed with Quidditch- at least he was the last time when I visited, which was three years ago when I did not make very good choices. Hagawthe chased us around with bludgers and tried to bend Lucius' limbs in ways ones' limbs should never bend. (Other than that, he was very nice and welcoming.) Of course, that was when Lucius' parents went out to a party, which, from what I've gathered, they do quite often. When they were around, Hagawthe was everyone's dream son, with a very creepy smile to boot. I'm not sure which I like best. Both have their downfalls, I suppose.  
  
I'd gone over to Lucius' manor over summer holiday after third year, as I mentioned, because we actually used to be best friends. After meeting on the first train to Hogwarts, getting sorted into Slytherin, and then being assigned to the same dorm room, we became quite close. Then, something happened. Lucius seemed more distant each year- much more cold every time I saw him. He hardly smiled, unless it was the result of something bad happenign to another human (or James Potter's plant in Herbology. Poor thing took a lot of shit). I started to feel like he was no longer on my side, as though he'd somehow become much too mature or popular for me. He was discovered by girls, and I was (and am) too repulsive for someone of the female gender to pay any attention to. As I spent countless hours after class in the Potions room or studying, Lucius was off in Hogsmede or practicing Quidditch with cooler Slytherins. Of course, I changed as well. It wasn't all him. He made me uncomfortable sometimes. Some of the things he said were rather off-colour, would you say? He was too greedy and a bit too ready to laugh at other peoples' defeats.  
  
"Say something!" commands Lucius. "Don't just sit there, staring!" He looks at me furiously, and then takes a bite of his roll daintily. I swear, sometimes he acts like he's a girl, and it's very befuddling. Once, he cornered me in the common room and came in on me like he was about to kiss me, but I shoved him aside, screaming something stupid about having to use the loo and ran to the toilet, locking the door and staying in there all night. We never spoke of it afterward. That was last year.  
  
My life is full of very awkward moments such as this. (Especially last year.)  
  
But I don't have to say anything, because Narcissa appears and gets cozy next to Lucius. The two begin snogging. It's not something you want as you're trying to down your peas and gravy, so I pretend to be rather interested in the book Andromeda is reading over her cold carrot soup.  
  
At that very moment, I see a strange shape gliding through the air and realise that it is a piece of cauliflower. I try to warn Lucius, honestly, but seeing as he's a bit tied up at the moment, the IFV (Identitfied Flying Veggie) whacks him up the back of the head.  
  
I shut my eyes and wait for Volume 1002. It comes.  
  
_"WHAT IN THE-"_ screams Lucius, looking from side to side like a maniac. A frightened little firstie holds up the IFV and shrugs helplessly. Lucius, eyes filling with malice, grabs the vegetable and turns around. Narcissa squeals for effect.  
  
He stands up, the Slytherin Prince that he always is, regal and pretty with his short icy hair and his fists balled up like an insolent four- year- old. Brace yourselves.... The room seems to darken.  
  
**"WHO IN THE HELL TOSSED THIS- THIS- GARBAGE AT THE BACK OF _MY_ HEAD!!?" **Lucius shouts murderously. Now, the "MY" in this sentence is very important, because the intonation he speaks with it proves that if it were anyone else's head, he'd be laughing his bloody knickers off.  
  
He's facing the Gryffindor table, and although I cannot see his face at the moment, I can just imagine the venom he's spewing over the on-lookers in the front row.  
  
I focus on the Marauders: Sirius -another black shirt that looks like it's been bought from a designer store with man-made tears in the sleeves- , is studying his fork, James cannot be see because he's suddenly "dropped" something under the table, Remus is focusing very intently upon a granual of dirt on his finger, and Peter is giggling. I told you he was a twisted little person.  
  
Lucius stalks his prey. He sends a glance over to the teachers' table, but no one's looking yet. They're used to his unneccesary noises. His dark grey velvet cloak flies out behind him as he slithers around to the other side of the table, nearing the Marauders, which would bring him behind them.  
  
"Which one of you did this to me?" he says dramatically, as though someone's just killed his grandma. **"WHICH ONE?"** he hisses.  
  
"_'S'not garbage_," James states quietly, appearing suddenly from below the table. His voice is steady as he sits back in his seat, but he's looking straight ahead.  
  
"What was that, Potter?" Lucius sneers widely.  
  
James turns around slowly, Sirius' hand on his shoulder. "'S'not garbage I said!" James says louder, his confidence pumping up. "It was a **bloody head of cauliflower**!" Almost the entire Gryffindor table breaks into hysteria. If people thought I was that funny for saying something as stupid as "It was a bloody head of cauliflower", I think that I might be just as arrogant as James Potter.  
  
He doesn't stop there. "Some people don't want to see you shoving your tongue down Narcissa Black's throat. Save it for the dorm, Malfoy. That is, if it isn't just for show!"  
  
I shake my head. The man's got a point. It seems as though Narcissa and Lucius never engage in _physical _activity unless there is an audience.  
  
"It was you, then?" spits out Lucius. "It was you, you worthless measle?" he spits out coldly. He places a long- fingered hand on Potter's neck.  
  
James reacts as though he's been given a sudden chill, but from the look in his eyes, he won't be played with the way Lucius is doing any longer.  
  
"Get your hand off me," he says sternly. When Lucius chuckles and doesn't move, James whips around and stands up, trying his best to stare Lucius in the eye, even though he's about two inches shorter. It's a very funny sight indeed. "I said I **'GET OFF OF ME', MALFOY! KEEP YOUR POUFTER HANDS OFF OF ME, YOU PANSY WANKER**!"  
  
Lucius gives James a very nice smile, and turns toward the teachers' table again. Myself and many of the students around me plug our ears.  
  
**"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY! I TOLD YOU TO STOP MAKING FUN OF ME! IF MY FATHER EVER FOUND OUT..."  
**  
That is all the Professors need to spring to action. Mademoiselle Zabini, the head of Slytherin gets up quickly and heads over to Malfoy and Potter. After a shouting match from the two of them, James recieves detention. Lucius looks satisfied with this, and gives Zabini a simpering look that reminds me of Hagawthe a bit too much. When she leaves, he takes the large spoon out of the potato bowl and, in plain sight of everyone, he lets a huge blob of mashers drop on Remus Lupin's neck. Remus opens his mouth in shock.  
  
_"Ah, ah, ah,"_ smiles Lucius, waggling his finger. He tosses the cauliflower at James' face and ambles back to our table.  
  
Narcissa kisses him lightly on the cheek and he shrugs. "I am just too brilliant."  
  
If this weren't enough, my fellow Slytherins break into applause. I think I just might vomit, so I excuse myself before I humiliate myself in front of the Lord Prince.


	5. Meeting Morgana

_**Chapter IV- Meeting Morganeva**_

Life is twisted. I realise this more and more every day of my own, as angry little jocks hurl insults and Lucius Malfoy gets away with everything because his father is some important and rich Pureblood. It's hard to decipher who's in the right and who's in the wrong.is the richest wizard in Britian. Sometimes

It's sad to say this, but as I'm walking down the corridor, I am actually excited to work on my Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. We're learning about counter jinxes, and that is something I really need. I try to remember the entire incantation for a spell to be rid of the Scourgify spell, but this is not a good thing to be doing as I'm walking down the hallway. While muttering at the floor, I collide with a very strange feeling object, and I seem to bounce backward. And now I'm _on _the floor.

I gaze up and see what seems to be a stack of books with legs. Pretty legs that obviously belong to a girl (or Lucius, but considering he's probably still being worshipped, that guess is not correct). Legs in a skirt. I have to urge to crane my neck and take a peek, but somehow that seems wrong. I'm not like that... Mostly.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" cries a voice from behind the books. And yes, it _is _female. "Did I knock you over?" In attempt to see me, the person drops her load of what appears to be school books, and unfortunately, they land right on my legs. _Bam bam bam._

"Ouch! Damn it!" I breathe, though not directed at whoever it is. I try to shimmy out of the pile of reading material, and she helps me. That's when I look at her face.

I've never noticed this girl before. I know that if I had, I would remember. She has short, light hair and huge golden eyes. She's very attractive, though not in an ordinary way. Her eyes almost make her look weird. But _very _good weird. She's wearing odd clothes, too.Along with the "normal" school skirt, she has a long, see- through sweater and lots of beads around her neck. She's staring at me, not laughing at all, as I attempt to not be devoured by the quicksand that is books. All I can do is stare dumbly at the way her beautiful eyes glow. A knot begins to grow in my stomach.

She kneels down beside me, trying to dig me out. "Wonderful.. The first day I get here, I cripple someone!" She tuts, shaking her head. "My name is Moragoneva Connelly, but everyone calls me Moore, or Morgan. I've just transferred from Salem Magic Academy in America."

"Ah..." I'm finally out.

She grins.

"I'm Severus Snape."

"Nice to meet you." She tries to offer me her hand, but then nearly tumbles over and thinks better of it. "I'm sorry. I'm not always this clumsy- well, at least not most of the time. It's just, Headmaster Dungledore just loaded me up with all of your reading material and- whew.. It's a lot," she finishes.

I don't have the heart to correct her. I stand up and brush off my robes. Got to get out of here before I make a complete fool of myself. "Well, I'd best be off."

"Wait-" she says, grinning. "Aren't you going to show me around a bit? I've only just gotten here this afternoon."

"There isn't much to look at. There's the loo, a depressing statue in the courtyard, the tapestry with an old mad man who looks perverted. That's about it." I inch backward.

"Sounds great. Look, I should just drop these books off at our common room and then you can show me around and introduce me to some of your friends." She struggles with the awkward pile.

Great. My chance to show what a loser I am. _Be social, Severus. Be social!_

"Er-kay," I shrug," I should drop my bag off as well. Common room's this way." I point and begin to walk, only to notice that she's staggering behind me. "Uh- I'll get some of those!" I grab the first six books off the top of the stack.

She beams as though noone's ever done that in her life. "Thank you, Severus!"

And for some weird reason, I do not say "Call me Snape." I just nod and continue on my way.

"What year are you?" she inquires, flipping a straying walnut coloured lock out of her eyes.

"Sixth," I reply cautiously. "You?"

"Same," she smiles. "I just turned sixteen last April. And then my dad surprised me with 'We're moving!' I wasn't all too delighted, as you might imagine. Years of friends, just down the drain. I suppose I can write them, though, so I shouldn't be moaning about it."

"I guess..." I respond slowly. My head is spinning from all of this optimistic thinking. "What are your favourite subjects?" I ask. I'm trying to add to the conversation, but I'm struggling very badly.

She doesn't seem to notice. "I love Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic."

I am completely baffled. "History? No one likes that class!"

"Well, at the Salem Academy, we mostly study the witch trials and take part in demonstrations. In fact, I'm missing the live trial."

"Live trial? That sounds so cool. All we have here is notes, notes, lecture, test. And, it's taught by a dead man."

She laughs. "I like it all ready."

'I like you all ready,' I think, 'and I haven't even known you for five minutes.'

"What are _your_ favourite subjects?" she inquires.

"DADA," I put in quickly," but Potions is my best."

She looks confused. "DAD- what now?"

"Defense Against the-"

-"Dark Arts.. Sorry. I just say the entire thing. I guess I'm old fashioned," she smiles.

I feel my palms sweating, but I ignore it. "No problem."

"You're lucky to be quick in Potions. I'm awful, just awful!" She laughs, and then shakes her head. "I quite like it, too."

"It's hard," I shrug. Instantly, I realise I sound arrogant. "What I mean is, some people don't get it... Not to say that you're a drip, or anything like that." I honestly don't know what I'm saying. I'm constantly harping on others about how they're bad at Potions. People like Potter, who cannot appriciate anything that doesn't include a Golden Snitch.

"Here we are," I say quickly, before I make myself sound too sad again, nodding toward the gargoyle statue guarding the staircase.

_"Only a true Slytherin shalth know the password," _it growls.

"Yeah, yeah. _Dr_-"

Morgan runs up to me. "Did that statue just say 'Slytherin'?"

I nod. "Yes. As if we'd forget which house we're in. It's tiring really."

The gargoyle spits at me.

"But- Severus, that hat- The Sorting Hat?" she manages to get out, a very confused look upon her face. "It said I was in a house called Gryfdinwar. Is there such a thing?"

"Gryffindor?" I correct, the knot I'm getting in my stomach doubling in size.

She smiles that blinding smile. "That's right. You must forgive me. I'm not so good at names. I remember yours because it's the most interesting one I've heard since- is there something wrong?"

"You're a Gryffindor," I state, tasting the words, and deciding that they taste worse than my mother's cabbage stew and that I hate them. This girl, this spell-binding, beautiful girl, belongs in Gryffindor, with the cruel and unfeeling Maruaders. With pulverized lunchmeat Pettigrew. With Lily Evans, full of sorrow for you one moment, then snarling at you about your dirty pants the next. Gryffindor, brave and bold and...

Slytherin's rival.

"What's the matter with it?" she inquires, studying me with a frown in those pretty jewel eyes. "It's not where- where murderers go, or something?" She laughs nervously.

"Quite the opposite," I state delicately. "Look, I hate to say this but Slytherins and Gryffindors are rivals. Always have been, always will be. It's stupid and it's pointless, but everyone goes with it. And soon, you'll have to as well. So I'm sorry that I had to say this, but we can't talk to each other anymore."

She laughs. "You're joking. Because of some school rival rubbish you're going to turn me down? I think you seem like a very nice person and I don't care if my fellow students want to disagree!"

This is not the response I expected. I expected 'Oh. Yes, I remember now. Well, see you in Transfigurations, Snivellus.' But not this. Especially not "nice person." "Nice Person?" Goes to show that some opinions we have of people we've only known for ten minutes are completely wrong.

As if this situation couldn't get any worse, I hear footsteps above us.

"Damn... That'd be other Slytherins. You should hide. I don't want them being asses to you."

She shrugs. "I told you I wanted to meet your friends."

Before I can convince her that she doesn't, Bellatrix and Lestrange come around the corner, holding each other in a very tight grasp. Lucius and Narcissa follow, holding hands. Lucius suddenly slams Narcissa against the wall in what looks like a rather violent matter, and snogs her as though he's going to bite her face off. From this scene, Morgan must be thinking that the hat's poem should have gone _"You may belong in Slytherin: you'll learn your sexuality in first year, lose your virginity fast, and take part in orgies every evening." _

"SEVVIE!" screams Bellatrix. "How are you feeling?"

"My face isn't burning anymore," I shrug quietly.

"Did you like the little visit we gave you this morning?" she inquires, smiling. She turns to her boyfriend. "Sevvie really enjoyed it. Didn't you?"

Morgan looks at me with very wide eyes. Needless to say, my face begins burning again. Salazaar knows how this must sound to her.

Lestrange chuckles. "Leave the poor boy alone, Belle. You know you're irresitable to everyone. Especially me."

She smiles darkly.

"BUT," continues Lestrange, his voice getting louder," SNAPE, if you EVER try to make a move on my girl, you'll be dead faster then I can say _Avada K-_"

Lucius looks toward all of us. "Who are _you_?" he yells at Morgan, pointing.

"Yes. Who's the cutie, Sev?" Bellatrix smiles a bit devilishly.

"Er.."

"I'm Moragona," she states, smiling back at Bellatrix. "I'm new here, and just met Severus in the hallway."

Bellatrix looks tickled. "The hallway. Oh, darling, Sev!" I swear, she adores torturing me. Her dark eyes focus on Morgan's bright ones. " You know, that is amazing! Because we were just in the hallway ourselves, and we ran into a few interesting people, too. Just out of curiousity, which house might you be in, sweetie?"

Is there radar in those eyes, I wonder?

Morgan looks to me, then stands a little taller. "I'm in Gryffindor."

Lucius coughs on Narcissa's tongue. Lestrange crosses his arms. Bellatrix laughs delightedly. Narcissa shrieks, but I think that's only because Lucius is choking on her tongue.

"It's as I thought. Know James Potter at all, _Moragona?" _Bellatrix continues, coming forward. Morgan doesn't even react. She stands completely still.

"I do! Why?"

"Any relation, _Moragona?"_

"We're cousins. Our dads are brothers."

_"What?"_ I exclaim. This is becoming worse than I ever would have expected. "You're related to _THE_ James Potter?"

Morgan nods. "Why, do you know him?"

"**KNOW HIM**?" Lucius screams. "**HE'S A CAULIFLOWER THROWER**!"

"A _what_?"

"Actually, Sevvie _does _know him," Bellatrix goes on. "_Loathes him_, actually, Moragona. It might be best if you haul out of here quickly now."

"Yes, you hoity little slag," growls Lestrange, obviously wanted to have some sort of threat in this.

"**WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT ME**?" Lucius yells.

"Don't speak to her like that," I declare.

"**I'M NOT A HER**!"

"What did you say, _Snivellus_?"

"Now, now, Lestrangie. Calm down. Moragona, I thought I told you. Get out of here. Your little cousin is looking for you upstairs. Wouldn't want to disappoint, _mmmm_?"

Morgan's eyes flash. "No, actually I wouldn't." She looks to me. "Can I have my books, please?"

"Aw, you carried her books? You're such a nice boy."

"**GO TELL YOUR BASTARD COUSIN TO**-"

"_Shut up and kiss me, Lucius_."

"I'll go with you."

"Severus, you don't have to."

"_I'll go with you."_

_**"CAULIFLOWER, I TELL YOU!"**_

With that, we run up the stairway, almost knocking down Andromeda, who is still reading.

"Oh, hello Severus. What's all of the commotion?" she inquires lightly.

"Don't ask," I instruct her.

"Goodnight, then," she replies, engrossed in the book and not even looking up.

Morgan and I slam the door at the top of the staircase behind us.

I set her books on the floor and get into a fetal position, rocking back and forth.

"They are kind of awful, aren't they?" Morgan says, and giggles.

After all of that, she just laughs!!!?

"You mean you aren't completely angry?" I look up.

"Not at you," she shrugs. "Just because those people were all kind of crazed at the moment doesn't mean you are."

I sigh. "Thanks, but... But your cousin's James Potter," I exclaim, sitting up all of a sudden, my heart pounding in my chest.

"What's the matter with James, I'd like to know?" Morgan inquires, and I wonder what it must be like to live in a world where you can say 'What's the matter with James?' .

"Oh... We just don't... Click?" I roll my eyes. "All right, we're complete and total enemies. It began in first year. We were ten years old, and he knocked over my plant in Herbology. I told him he was clumsy, he made a joke about me wearing a winter cloak in a sweltering greenhouse. It was the beginning of a beautiful horror." I pull my shaking knobbly knees together. "Back then, it was making little jokes and giggling. Now we mostly yell at eachother, and as Lucius reported, hurt eachother by means of vegetables and hexes. But you're _related_ to him."

She nods. "Yes, and I can speak to him about the way he acts here. I'm really surprised. I would've never guessed. We've always been quite friendly."

"You don't need to talk to him," I shake my head. "It's never going to stop, so it would be best if you never mentioned my name." I don't want her hearing embarrassing stories even I've pushed to the back of my mind. She looks confused. I go on. "I'm guessing he's protective of you, and if so, he'd kill me if I ever touched you."

Wait. Did I just say that aloud? My face burning again, I focus on the rug. How could I be so stupid? What on earth is wrong with me? I always manage to keep my emotions inside, but now, I just say something totally humiliating to a complete stranger? Maybe she'll ignore it. I'm probably making too great of a deal about it. It's all in my head.

But, Morgan slides down the wall and ends up next to me. "Do you _want _to touch me?" she asks softly.

I feel like my insides are filled with ice water. _Is this flirting? Is this radiant girl actually FLIRTING with me? Ha! Take that, Pettigrew! Now you're really a loser! One to zero! Take that..._

Except she asked me a question, so now I must decide upon an answer... To humiliate myself further, I could tell the truth. I've known her for almost fifteen minutes now, and I'm finding myself imagining her snogging me. How sad is this? Or is it really that sad? But maybe, since she's Potter's cousin and all, it's a set up and she's just saying this to hurt me in the end.

**That is it.**

It's a bloody fucking joke and I bought it. **I BOUGHT IT. I'm always bloody buying it! **

I mean, look at this girl. She's got pretty skin, hair that looks totally soft, golden eyes, and she seems so nice.

Look at me. I've got pale skin, I'm much too skinny, I probably smell disgusting despite the little bath this afternoon, and my black hair is hardly desirable. _And _I'm in _Slytherin_. I've got assholes surrounding me every moment, _and I'm one of them_! I'm not **nice**. I'm a **horrible **person. I keep inside myself, I don't want people talking to me, I let everything get to me...

**Oh. And I'm gullible, too.**

I stand up quickly, her eyes piercing me from her place on the floor.

_"No."_ I snarl. _"I wouldn't. So just stay out of my way."_

She jumps a little bit.

I'm surprised at the bitterness myself, but she deserves it.

I kick the books in her direction, and I head back to my Slytherin dorm room where the people are jerks sometimes, but at least they don't try to trick me.


	6. Not That Kind of Freak

_**Chapter V- Not That Kind of Freak**_

"Good afternoon, class," announces stern Minerva McGonnagal. She's in her late twenties, but acts old. She's been our new Professor ever since Madame Ottoman ran away to Jamaica with a centaur.

Everyone mumbles out a reply. I don't answer. I'm still seething from last evening.

All night, I tossed and turned, wondering why in the hell the Marauders would do this to me. Actually, I obviously _do_ know _why_- they're idiots and they find pleasure in making me angry. I suppose this really wasn't about them. It was about Moragona Connelly, because there was just something about her. There was something that felt so right, so natural. I mean, the girl treated me decently!

_Of course she did! She's a fake, and they set you up. _

And I don't care.

Not at all.

Maybe a bit.

Well, wouldn't you? She _shines, _damnit!

_She had you, Severus. She had you good. She had you good because noone's ever been that way before. Bellatrix Black may have pretty hair and a nice body but she's a freaky bitch. _

_And that's why you don't truly like her! She's got the Older Woman hook, but come on! She treats you like dragon dung. She draws you in by speaking to you nicely, and then she snogs with her stupid boyfriend and talks to you like you're a little boy._

This realisation confuses me at first, yet I suppose I've always known it. The Black Sisters are legend, so far away from me. So high above me. Morgan seemed so down to earth and real.

_Seemed _being the key word in that sentence.

"Mister Snape, may I have your permission to continue?" Professor McGonnagal inquires seriously, glaring calmly through tiny spectacles.

I notice I've been sketching angry black ink lines all over my parchment.

_"Sniiiiiivellus!" _shouts Potter.

"I do not wish to hear that in my classroom, Potter, do I make myself quite clear?"

"Yes, Miss."

I gloat at him, then turn to McGonnagal. "Sorry, Professor."

She coughs into her hand. "As I was saying, we have a new student. Moragona, will you please stand up?"

I suck in my breath as she does so. Today, her hair is a dark brunette colour, and it flows down her back. Hippie beads are settled around her neck, jangling bracelts on her arms, and I realise I'm staring a bit too intently, so I try to focus on my psychotic line drawing.

"Moragona is an exchange student. Her father works for the Ministry of Magic in Salem, Massachusetts and was transferred to the London branch for this year. Share something about yourself, would you?" McGonnagal fixes her with a somber stare, but Morgan only smiles back.

Potter yells out," Tell them about your fantastic cousin!"

"I hear your cousin's a looker," Sirius hoots, pounding on his desk and whistling. A few people snicker. For some reason, I cough very loudly.

"Then you've heard wrong," Morgan grins. "My cousin is this bloke here-" she gestures to James-" but don't let it fool you. I'm _good_ at Quidditch and I'm _actually _smart."

James boos happily, as other people laugh.

Clarence Coldwatter, a Gryffindor, raises his hand. "I've a question for you. You single?"

I notice a few girls look excitedly jealous. Coldwatter has ink black skin, is fairly muscly, and a star at everything he does.

I squeeze my quill so hard my hand hurts. I shouldn't be so worked up about this, but I am. Even though I know the whole ordeal last night was a set-up, my brain screams _Get away from her! I'M the one she flirted with!_

If I'm not mistaken, at this very moment, Morgan looks at me. Not for very long. Perhaps a nano second. Then, she says," I'm not _married_." Sirius whistles loudly, and then the "fun" dies down immediately when McGonnagal decides it's time to practise for the quiz on switching colours on objects.

Great. Work time.

I take out my wand and wait for one of the Maruaders to come over and casually ask me if I had any fun last night. No one comes. I watch them out of the corner of my eye. Potter seems to be introducing her to a host of Gryffindors. She laughs her magical laugh as Clarence Coldwatter says something to her that, for some reason, does not seem like it's about Tranfigurations.

Lucius leans into me. I had no idea he was here, even! I lean away. He leans further. It's a habit we both have aquired over the years.

"Would you look at that girl. That _Moragona _girl. She's odd," he whispers very loudly, pointing.

"What's the point of whispering, when you're bloody _yelling!?_" I declare, now pretending to be very engrossed in my studies.

He puts his face very close to mine. "What did she want with you last night?"

I scoot my chair over. "She's new, Malfoy. She needed some help carrying her books."

"Oh, and she just ended up in front of our common room?" he asks of me, a leer spreading upon his face.

"I thought she was a Slytherin."

"**_Nasty surprise for _you**," he claps his hands. "I swear, what if she'd gotten in? Do you reckon she's a Mudblood?"

"I doubt it, if she's related to James. I heard his whole family's pure-blooded. If anything, she's a halfie."

He flicks a silver eyelash off of his face. "Right. Thank Salazaar for that."

I try to block him out, but his voice is ringing in my brain, growing louder all the time. My heart gives a leap as I realise I'm focusing on Morgan again- she's paired up with Remus Lupin and they seem to be having a delightful time. I want to stop looking at her. I want to stop thinking about her. I want to go back to being unfeeling.

I want a spell that makes me asexual.

"You sure do look at her often," Lucius voices aloud, looking innocent but attempting to keep a smile off his lips without much luck.

"**I do not**," I spit out. He's pushing all of my buttons, as usual. I hate it how he is so observative. It's unnerving. He looks at me sometimes with those frozen grey eyes as though he can see right through me. "Honest to Merlin, Lucius, I don't know her at all. Stop lying to yourself."

"I believe you!" he replies falsely. "Little sly thing," he tuts cutely. "She's probably not Potter's cousin at all, she's his spy. He wants secret information on us, Severus. You'd better hide everything dear to you."

What a drama queen.

I sigh loudly.

"What would that _be_, anyway? Your trenchcoat? But you've always got it on.. It couldn't count."

I say a silent prayer.

_Please let this class go by quickly._

Ooh, goodie. I just can't wait. You know what time it is? Time for sweat, pain, and annoyance.

Yes, it's time for lunch.

Only kidding. It's time for stupid, stupid, STUPID Intermediate Levitating on Curiously Shaped Boards.

"Severus! Wait!" comes a voice behind me.

It's her. I know it is.

I pick up the pace, my school robes billowing out behind me as I clutch my books tightly to my chest. I don't want her to admit it was all a prank. I just want to get through one day when something entirely humilating does not happen to me. It would be too much- way too much if I had to endure _her _laughing at me.

I turn the corner, and head out the front entrance to the Quidditch pitch, ignoring her bell- like voice. Even though I know she's not following me, I heigthen my pace to a jog and pretend that the tears forming in my eyes are there because of the biting wind. I almost believe myself.

I shouldn't be this upset. I shouldn't be upset at all.

With a bang, the locker room door shuts behind me. I stand in the shadows of the front opening, rubbing my eyes on my sleeve, collecting myself. I then proceed into the main room.

There are two locker- rooms, both with girls' and boys' sections, for Quidditch games. We use Room B for class, because it's smaller.

I walk down the aisle, ignoring the males around me who are walking around either in the nude or in their Quidditch robes. Why you'd have to be nude, I don't know. I guess some of us like to flaunt it, me definitely not being one of "us."

"All right, Snivellus? Ready to be clobbered once more, eh?" Potter inquires of me, admiring himself in one of the full-body mirrors.

"Clobbered, Potter? A Quaffle hit me in the nose. You need to stop over-reacting. It mixes things up a bit, if you know what I mean." I pivot and face my locker, sticking my wand in the lock and twisting. It opens. My borrowed Quidditch robes and annoying broom greet me. "Then again, you most likely don't."

_"Shut up, Snivellus, honestly!" _he declares. He's angry, probably because I'm not admiring the way he's touseled his hair today.

I grab the robes and leave the broom for the moment, my eyes searching the bottoms of the stalls for somewhere to dress in private. All three of them are taken. Potter notices my frusterated look, and he smiles, making me wonder if anyone in there is actually using the stalls for dressing purposes at all.

His teeth flash brightly. "Don't have anything to cover you up? Afraid we'll see your panties again?"

I swallow, a feeling of dread filling my stomach. I feel for my wand in my pocket. Potter is reffering to an occurance last year in which he thought it would be amusing if he turned me upside down with a hex. That particular day, I wasn't wearing any jeans. Quite stupid, now that I look back on it, but it was a hot day and I was sick of smelling bad by the time third period rolled around. That, and I had forgotten to clean my trousers the night before. So, when I was hexed, my old and very embarrassing underwear was shown to at least thirty onlookers. As if that wasn't bad enough, Potter then proceeded to take off my underpants.

I thought about dying that day. I truly did. It wasn't the first time, but it was probably the time I've been the most serious.

"They still gray, Sniv, or have you finally gotten new ones? Are you going to answer me or just stand there twitching?"

I'm not amused by his stupidity anymore. It's gotten to the point where I'm sick and tired of taking it. It's a normal occurance. See, Potter and I always argue, but then it gets serious. He's kidding, but it's meaner. It's not as fair, you know what I mean?

My eyes scan the floor of the stalls again. _Someone leave, please. _

An angry buzzing noise begins to drone in my ears.

"It seems they're all occupied at the moment. Kind of a strange coincedince, in't?" he inquires, smiling. "Are you scared to undress out here, or something? Don't want to _strip _for us again?"

I draw in a shaking breath and stick my wand out in front of me. "Leave me alone, Potter," I stammer, wishing I wasn't shaking so badly.

"You paranoid little freak!" James shouts, grinning.

_Freak._

_Perhaps I _am_ a freak. You started calling me a freak when you noticed how well I mixed concoctions in Potions class. You thought it was unnatural that I'd rather work on homework then hang out in a little clique and gossip. You saw me once, out by the lake. I was alone. I was practising dueling. You thought it was weird._

_"Freak! Freak!"_

_Well, maybe I am. _

_But at least I'm not so pathetic as to set up my cousin to make you feel stupid. At least I'm not that kind of freak._

Baring my teeth, I point my wand at Potter's face. _"Plasmaimus," _I shout. I feel a sick simper claim my lips as his eyes widen in horror. The blokes around him back up, as he begins to cough up dark blood.

_You know your silly little hexes, I know my Dark magic. **It all evens out in the end.**_

The front of Potter's chest is soaked as he's clasping his throat, his face bright white.

"What's going on, Prongs, did- Holy shit!" shouts Sirius, coming out of one of the bathroom stalls. "What happened- what..." His eyes fall upon me. "Snivellus, you sick fuck. REVERSE IT!"

"I don't know how."

The room is spinning.

"Sit down, Prongs, there, just wait- don't mess with me, Snape!"

"Oh, so now you're decent enough to call me by my name. How predictable you are when you want something, Black."

He comes forward, punching a locker. "You reverse that spell, and I won't bloody you today after practise."

"That's nice of you."

Sirius takes hold of my robe and slams me against the row of lockers. "Do it, NOW!"

I slip my wand behind Black and mumble the incantation.

Potter stops choking, and takes a deep breath, looking dizzy.

"Going to feel up to riding your broom, Potter?" I can't help saying.

I get bashed in the side of the face by Black.

"Ugh," he moans," now I'll have to wash my hands." The guys laugh, still watching. I stagger against the lockers, as Sirius goes over to help his friend. Holding my robes tightly, I speed past everyone and into an empty stall.

I begin to undress, but I just don't feel like it anymore. I sit down upon the little bench and I tuck my legs underneath myself, trying not to breathe.

A few minutes later, the sound of a horn rings out, which is always the signal to be ready for class. I hear my classmates leaving for the field, and then the sound of water running. Potter must be taking a shower. Soon, the nozzle squeaks and Potter leaves for class a minute or so after. I squeeze myself so tightly I feel as though I might suffocate. _I hate them so very much._

The time seems to drag on and on. At one point, Runson came in and called out my first name a few times, then gave up and left. I figure I'll either have detention tomorrow, or else I'll pay for what I did at the hands of the Marauders.

All too soon, though, class is over. I make so sound whatsoever as lockers slam and the stupid jerks trade mindless tips on Quidditch tactics. The sound dies down, and I finally force myself up and out of the stall.

Sirius Black looks at me in enjoyment from his place against the wall. "Knew you were in here, _Snivellus_."


	7. Having Quite Enough

_**Chapter 6- Having Quite Enough**_

My heart skips a beat. I consider running, but I don't. Yet. "Leave me alone, Black," I whisper again, keeping my wand in front of me.

"Leave you alone!? You didn't leave James alone! You don't deserve to be left alone. You deserve to be dead. I seriously don't know why he saved your life last year, but you should be fucking grateful., because I think you should have been _killed._"

What Black is referring to was an unmpleasant circumstance in fifth year. I'm not certain if I mentioned it yet, but perfect Remus Lupin has a downfall- he's a werewolf. I found this out because I was briefly obsessed with trying to suspend the Mafrauders, and happened to witness him being led to the Whomping Willow by Mistress Pomfrey. (I was spying, all right?) Black knew I had seen for some reason, and also knew that I was dying to see why Lupin had to go there. He told me that I could get down into a secret passage in the tree if I pressed the knot, and I could see what was down there. Little did I know, Lupin was a full grown werewolf, and was waiting for prey.

Stupid, stupid me. I was so focused on finding out what was wrong with Lupin so I could make everyone see that he wasn't as perfect as they thought. Really immature and kind of greedy, I suppose, but I've always been that way. It's not really something I can go about changing- it's just part of who I am, though I've gotten more of a hold on it now. So, I decided to sneak out to the Whomping Willow, and just as I was close to it, someone grabs me around the waist and yanks me backward. I topple onto this person, and, totally scared someone was going to jinx me, I tried to pull out my wand.

It was James Potter, which put me in a bit of a frenzy at first- screaming swearwords, threats, and trying to hex him. But, he'd saved me. I later found out the whole story. It was really quite hard to believe.

None of that matters now, of course, because afterward, he's been just as horrible as ever, almost like he thought he _should be, _after being so nice for once.

"I'm glad you care, but I really have to be going."

He stands up straight, taking a step forward.

If I run now, there's a chance I'll make it to the exit before he catches me. There's a chance.

I decide to take it.

I drop my robe and bolt. Black doesn't miss a beat, and sprints after me. I tear around the corner, and I'm so close to reaching the door when he catches me by the back of my robe. Potter springs up from behind the corner.

"I'll teach you to hex me, you vulgar grease-ball!" he yells, holding up his wand. Expecting him to curse me instantly, Black shifts out of the way. I barrel toward the door, and James isn't quick enough to grab me. I grasp the door handle and turn it.

Finally outside, I squint at the light sky and try to figure out which route to take. Black grabs me from behind, tripping me, and James places the Immobilious command on me so I cannot move. I close my eyes, and feel Black give another punch to my face.

"Oy, there's Remus," Potter puts in. "Let's go." He and Black head away, as though they've been doing nothing wrong. Lazily, Potter puts the reverse on me, and I stumble to the ground, grasping my cheek.

Honestly, I haven't a clue why they bolt when they see Lupin. Sure, he's Head Boy material, but he shares their opinion of me, no matter how good he tries to act. He just looks away and lets them bloody me. He and Lily Evans both, but at least _she _**pretends** she wants to help. Not like I care or anything. I don't need her help. And I don't need anyone's help.

I regain strength a moment later, and I stand, brushing grass off of my knees. My legs are shaking violently. _I wish they'd just let me go about my life in peace. I hate them, I HATE THEM. They think they're ever so cool, and the worst part is, THEY ARE. They always look so perfect, and they're always having so much fun. I hate them. I don't want what they've got. I don't want to be them._

_Yet I do._

"Severus! I've been looking all over for you! You're sure a good sprinter. I was calling your name this morning, but you've must've not heard me. Are you all right?" she asks, studying me.

My stomach ties into another knot. It's her. _Why can't she stop it? Go away. Let me be alone. Stop making me think this is real when it isn't._

"What did I tell you last night?" I snarl, still trying to get dirt off my robes.

She stands only about a foot away from me. I draw back. "That's what I've been trying to find you for. You weren't at breakfast, then in class James introduced me to at least two hundred people, all of whose names I can't remember anymore. I'm so sorry," she says, shaking her head.

"For which part?" I bark, my two reasons being that one, she led me on or two, because she didn't speak to me in second.

"Well, for making you so uncomfortable, of course," she explains.. I stare at her, wondering what she's getting at now. "My stupid little question was really rude- I don't know you, and therefore I couldn't know if you were comfortable with.. that. If you're not, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you into anything, I- I guess I'm moving a bit too quickly. But I'd still like us to be friends, even if you don't.. You know. You're the only person here who seems to make sense," she finishes, shrugging, a very nice tinge appearing upon her cheeks.

I breathe in quickly. "You're a great actress," I snap.

_"What?"_

"Look: I told you last night. Stay out of my way. Just stay away," I growl, and hurry away before she can fool me anymore.

I don't need another person fucking with my head.

So of course, at this exact moment, I see Lucius Malfoy coming toward me.

"Hullo!" he calls out, holding onto his dragon- hide schoolbag with an uppity smirk.

"Er- 'lo," I put in, calculating his expression. He's looking very phoney, so I can tell quickly that he needs a favor.

"Come on, then. Hurry up!" barks Lucius bossily, hand on hip. Needless to say, I take my time, and reach him quite a few minutes later. "Finally! Spending time with the new girl again, I see."

"Not really," I snap. "Good Salazaar, Lucius. What's wrong with you? every time I see you you're accusing me of being infatuated with her. She just asked me- well, she asked me if we had homework in second period. Is that all right with you?"

Lucius' left eye twitches as he stares at me silently for a moment. I believe he knows I'm lying, but he questions me no further. "It's perfectly splendid. As is the weather," he adds, gesturing to the dark, cloudy sky.

"I'd have to agree. Though it looks like snow, which is too bad, because I think I've misplaced my long underwear," I say sarcastically.

He blinks. See what I mean? He always _used _to get my jokes! I suppose he's just too good for old Severus now.

"Severus?"

_"What?"_

He smiles. "Severus, winter break is next week."

"Yes? What do you want?"

His expression subsides in seconds. "Why, whatever do you mean? I was only going to invite you over to the manor for holiday!" he pouts, pausing.

"Oh." This is certainly not what I expected. I bite my lip. _Maybe he's being nice, _says a little voice inside my mind. _Maybe he feels sorry for treating you like shit and he wants to repay you. **Nonsense! He doesn't care! He has no sense of emotions, no way of knowing how cruel it was to drop you from his circle just as fast as he'd taken you. **But, maybe, just maybe, he's realised he needs you as his friend. **Or perhaps, he's realised he needs your help on the start-of-quarter Potions exam.**_

Whatever his reasons, I give him a stupid look. "You _what_?"

"I know. A bit casual, aren't I? Well, I simply figured you weren't going anywhere anyway, and I decided it would be nice of me to take you in."

I ball my fists up so hard I feel like my placid knuckles will explode. I know what he's saying is true, but **_he_** really _doesn't, _seeing as I've told him nothing at all about my home life besides the fact that I loathe everything about it. How could he be so certain I wasn't occupied? But the truth is, I'm not. I figured I'd do as I always do. Just stay at Hogwarts castle and get work done. And Lucius knows that this is all I do, so I suppose it's not an entirely awful thing to say, but after the happneings of today, I'm ready to make anything sound bad.

"I've all ready asked my parents. They're thrilled- it was they who suggested I gather my lot together for Christmas."

"Eh- excuse me, but _your "lot"_?"

"Why, yes, you know. All of we _involved _Slytherins. Bella, Narcissa, Rudolphus, Knott... You know. Also, a few who graduated last year. Remember Mason Goyle and Rosetta Rosier?"

"How could I ever forget Rosetta?" I question, laughing darkly at the memory of another beatufiul yet very godly girl. "But, why so many people? And, excuse me but, _involved?_"

Lucius looks side to side and edges very close to me so that we are almost mouth-to-mouth. Fearing I am about to be snogged (again), I hop out of his way.

He snorts angriliy. "Get back here." He trudges toward me and whispers in my ear," _It's secret. But what I can reveal is that one of my father's good friends, and a really, really brilliant man, is going to speak to all of us about how we can help."_

"Help what?" I yell into his ear, making him frown, as I can tell he was having a bit of fun being mysterious.

"The Pureblood issues!" he says quietly, but still has the effect of screaming. "We must help our future generations stay clean, pure, Muggle-free! And we need all of the help we can get. We also want to start exterminating those who think muggles and Mudbloods make good families, like that failure, James Potter. The way he lusts over that Mudblood bitch is pathetic. He's as bad as her! Maybe worse."

I should add something here. Lucius' family is obsessed with purity. Hagwathe made countless mudblood jokes the last time I was over, and from Lucius has told me, his parents are constantly having socials with other purists like themselves, arranging marriages, and such things. My parents are pro-Pure, but at least they don't care about me enough to try and get me a "good" wife. (That, and the fact that they are so bloody poor that no one would want anything to do with them.)

"So," Lucius snaps, looking aggitated, as though the very subject puts him on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "Are you in, or not?"

_In or not?_ What is this, a **bleeding _cult_**?

I was all ready for this to be a fairly harmless little week stay at the Malfoy home. But with the Black Sisters and Lestrange, and Rosetta, well- it was beginning to sound like a loud, obnoxious nightmare. These 'Pureblood issues', though, as Lucius put it, sounded relatively interesting.It would be nice to know what is going on in the world.

And to be completely honest, the thought of exterminating James Potter sounded very fun and joyful.

This _could _be information I needed. I want to hear about how to rid the world of people who made me feel like i didn't matter. I also need desperately to get my mind off of Moragona Connely. It's becoming quite embarrassing, the way I care so much that she is playing tricks on me.

"What are the benefits? What do I have to do? Is it simply a lecture, or will we have to take some sort of course? And what's this friend of Mr. Malfoy's like?"

Lucius smiled. "You'll have to find out next week, won't you? Here, let me write your name down," he told me, opening his bag and removing what appeared to be a very fancy guest list. "The train leaves this Sunday morning. It'll be ever so much fun. And in answer to your last question-" a strange sort of look filled Lucius' cold gray eyes- "he's a charming person. You'll adore him. I do..." He trails off, biting his lip, as though harbouring a secret. A flake of crystal white snow drifts down and lands upon his equally pale nose. He grins. "Uh oh- come along, Severus. I ought to help you look for your long johns." He grins and throws back a blond bang. And for a moment, it feels just like it used to, when we were best friends.

Maybe this trip will bring us close again.

**Maybe not.**

WHY DO I CARE???

Ah, well, happy Christmas.

A little socializing never hurt anyone, right?


	8. Terrific, Marvelous, Radiant

**AN: **It's going to get darker and darker from here on out. Just a warning. The rating may be bumped up in later chapters. Also, I own Hagawthe Malfoy, though he bothers me immensely. I also own a few of the characters mentioned in later chapters, and Malfoy's parents.

**Chapter Seven- Terrific, Marvolous, Radiant**

**-Sunday Morning-**

What is wrong with me?

_I mean it!_

Why am I going to Lucius Malfoy's house for break, when I could stay behind and read and study and use the library and be HAPPY? Why am I going to the Malfoy Manor, where there will be insanity and angst (which I have enough on my own) and loudness and no sleep? Do I _really _want to go?

Yes, kind of. It does get rather lonely, but dear Salazaar... Will I be able to take it?

Probably not, but I'll try to be strong.

"Come on, Severus!" screams Lucius eagerly. "I want to get a good seat on the train!"

_Like being on time matters! You throw a fit either way. Arriving late would save us the trouble! _But it doesn't matter, as I'm all packed up now. 'All packed up.' Listen to me! As though I've got a cartload of supplies. Really, all I need in life is my coat, my wand, and my chemistry set. (But don't fret- I _did_ pack all the things in between.)

I grab my trunk, which used to be my sister's,and is written on, beat up and basically useless as its wheel is always flying off. I wheel it (pathetically) out of the common room. Lucius staggers behind me, holding an armload of silk shirts in protective coverings, and also dragging his dark emerald dragon hide travelling set (which matches his bookbag), complete with a little accessory case. He never ceases to amaze me.

Still debating in my mind wheter or not I should go, we stumble up the common room stairs and out into the hallway. There stand the Mafrauders, all talking enthusiastically, the usual peppy prats they always are. Fortunately, they are turned the other way and do not sense my presence.

"The bitch said she doesn't care if she ever sees me again," remarks Black, clad in a very _cute_ little winter outfit, his hair shimmering healthily. "I'm so happy. This will be the best Christmas ever." His smile is a bit forced.

_The bitch? Must be a girlfriend. Well, EX- girlfriend. Glad to see Sirius Crap has a few problems of his own._

"Sorry, Padfoot." Potter puts a hand on Black's shoulder. "I'm glad as well, though. We'll have a great time. We'll get to run free without many people around!"

"_Like many people are out at night_," scoffs Lupin. He seems to be in a very _nice _mood. _And what the hell are they talking about? _

"Sorry you can't stay, Worm," Potter says to Pettigrew, a little too politely, which indicates that he really _doesn't _care. Worm? I've heard them call him that before. It's not a very flattering nickname. Perhaps I should be _happy_ I'm called Snivel, us.

"Yes, well... Gramps is coming up and all that," puts in the little Worm himself, shrugging.

I snort rudely, which is a mistake.

Potter whips around. "_Eavesdropping_, eh? Bet it's hard to hear with all of that mold plugging up your eardrums!"

"It seems you study my ears a bit too closely, Potter."

"It's isn't hard to miss," Siriusly Cracked tells me smugly.

"Just shut it," Lupin mutters quietly.

Potter takes a very daring step forward. "So, Snivellus. Tell us what _your_ holiday plans are."

"He doesn't have any! He never has any!" squeaks Pettigrew, shaking in both fear and excitement. "He's always here for holiday!"

"Sorry," I begin darkly," but my _Gramps _isn't visiting me this year."

Peter goes pink and squeals," Why, you!" He points at my face in what seems to be an imitation of a threatening manner.

For once, Black says nothing. He's missed his cue!

"Yes, exactly what I was thinking. Why me?" I voice dramactically, and start to wheel my trunk away.

"Are you just _pretending _you're going somewhere? It doesn't matter, you know. We're staying here. We'll see you." James crosses his arms and grins.

_THEY'RE STAYING HERE? Oh, Merlin, Lucius, I'M IN!_

"Actually, boys," comes Lucius' sharp, drawling voice beside me," Severus is coming home with me to my manor. He's wanted somewhere, unlike _some of you._"

Sirius is woken from his stupor st this precise moment and barks," Don't believe her, Malfoy! SHE'S A BLOODY LIAR!"

It's a little frightening. He's panting and looking wild. I stare at Lucius, trying to make something of this.

"I apologise profusely, then, if I'm mistaken. Come along, Severus," Lucius smirks, and heads off down the corridor, pausing to hand me one of his suitcases.

I give the Mafrauders a last look, and follow Lucius.

"Wankers! Bleeding _homos_!" shouts Black.

Anything is better then spending holiday with that lot.

**-On the Train-**

"HOOI, SEVIIIEE!" greets Bellatrix loudly. "Luccciiie! Give me a kiss, dahling!" she commands, and they perform that repulsive ritual where people "kiss" eachothers' cheeks. "We got here early and kicked some firsties out. Well, sit down, then!"

They've reserved two compartments and filled them with Slytherins. It's a bit overwhelming. Bellatrix and Lestrange are draped over eachother in the corner, Narcissa and Rory Bulstrode are working on their Charms homework,

Lucius and I squeeze into the two open seats by the window. I instantly feel claustraphobic.

Madame Otto rolls by with the food cart. "Any breakfast, loves?"

It's not a good question to ask twelve teenagers. There's a five minute debate over what kinds of things she's offering, and then it takes everyone a longer time to order, and even longer time to count out change. I obviously don't buy anything, not having any money. I _could _sell my socks, but I'm not in a bargaining mood.

At least the food brings a bit of silence. It's especially nice to hear Lucius chewing a sticky bun instead of bantering on and on.

Other people begin to board the train, talking and screaming. Lily Evans, the Mudblood James fancies, walks past our compartment and smiles nicely. If I was that sweet, I'd drown myself in the bath.

_"Did you see that Lily Evans? **She'll** be dead," _whispers Lucius, sneering at all of us as though making some sort of joke.

Everyone gets it but me. My peers begin to laugh loudly. Some actually clap and cheer.

"This is going to be so rad," Lestrange comments.

Uh. Okay.

**-At King's Cross-**

"Oh, damn, there he is," murmers Lucius into my ear, as we stand, waiting on line to get out of the train. I follow his gaze through the window of the compartment next to us, and see his brother standing outside, waiting for us.

"He looks different than what I recall."

"Yes, well, he was only sixteen then, wasn't he? Now he's twenty years old. And lucky for me, it's quite a rarity that he comes up to visit anymore. He lives in Bulgaria now, studying the Dark Arts." Lucius rolls his eyes furiously, and steps off the train.

Hagawthe spots us immediately. "Lucius!" he calls, grinning in the goody-goody way I remember. He swaggers toward us, wearing a long navy blue cloak, his dark blond hair gleaming cleanly. He's a strong and healthy looking man- muscled arms, strong chin, dark blue eyes. He gives Lucius a quick hug, and I can't help but wonder what Lucius has against him. He seems loads different then when I last saw him. He's not chasing us, for one thing.

Lucius shoves him away and says," You _do _remember Severus Snape, do you not?"

"Of course. The Strange Child," Hagawthe smiles, using the name he dubbed me with the last time I saw him.

I make an effort to smile back. "That's the one."

"How are you, Severus? You definitely _look _old. Gah, the last time I saw you, you could barely hold eye contact or a decent conversation! Has that changed at all?"

"Erm-" I look down.

"Right. So, liking sixth year? My personal favourite year. Lovely Quidditch season. You play Quidditch at all? Nah, didn't think so. You're not much the athlete, are you Severus? That's too bad. Honestly, Quidditch was the most worthwhile subject at Hogwarts. Not that I didn't excell in everything else I did, but the absense of the Dark Arts is simply atrotious! Lucius told me you are still involved in the Dark Arts? Still do those stupid rituals you used to? Ha! Sure you do! Why, I recall finding you two out in the garden twittering and trying to raise the dead or what- hmm, Lucius? Oh, you were 'channeling spirits', then? Same thing, isn't it, Severus? That's all right, Lucius, we still love you, even though you're a bad teenager now! Look out for Lucius! Luce, you're not even sixteen, don't give me the eye! You _are _sixteen, now, right Severus? Not a late bloomer like my baby brother here? Aw, you wittle boys are gwowing up!" he gushes mockingly, finally drawing a breath.

All right, I can sort of see what Lucius has against him.

"Shut up and get my trunks," hisses Lucius. He leans into my ear,"He tries to be nice in public, but you've seen him. You know."

Hagawthe cups an hand over his ear and whispers loudly,"What, Lucius? I can't quite hear you!"

The rest of our party reach us, still talking loudly.

"And are these the others?" Hagawthe inquires, immediately sobering up, and eyeing them. "Nice to meet you, ladies." He looks at Rory and Rosetta. "Narci and Bella, nice to see you." He kisses their hands in turn. I'm guessing they've met before. "Gentlemen." He grins at me and then the rest. "I'm certain Lucius has told you all about me-"

"Really, are you?" Lucius snarls.

"and I'm certain that most of it _wasn't true._" He smiles, teeth gleaming. I suddenly remember the box Lucius found underneath his bed. Dirty mags used to freak us right out. "My name is Hagawthe Malfoy and I'm Lucie's brother. Nice to meet you all."

"LUCIE?" Lestrange bursts out, as Lucius gives Hagawthe an evil glare.

"Sorry, Luc, forgot I wasn't supposed to call you that anymore, though it kind of suits you."

Lucius narrows his eyes, and I prepare for eardrum damage.

**"I WILL TELL MOTHER, AND YOU'LL HAVE TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF, HAGAWTHE MEPHSTOPH MALFOY!"**

Hagawthe sighs. "Get over it. I'm simply having a bit of fun. Your friends understand, don't you?" He pats Lucius' shoulder, and Lucius smacks his hand away, _colder than cold. _Suddenly embarrassed, Hagawthe looks away and addresses us once more. "It's very good of all of you to assist us. We will make a difference, you know. After you settle in at our home, we will begin right away."

Looking happy and excited for the first time since seeing his brother, Lucius inquires,"Is Tom there yet?"

"He is. And he's very thrilled to meet all of you."

"That's my father's friend," Lucius tells me, walking ahead," you'll like him."

Bellatrix leans into Narcissa. "I wouldn't mind being put in the same room as _Hagawthe. YUM, _he gets even better every time we seem him!Can you just imagine the sex? Distract Lestrangie tonight, will you?"

"Yuck, Belle. You say that _every time. _Poor Rudie."

"Don't tell him!"

"I promise! Like Hag'd ever give you the time of day."

"Older men, Nar. Older men!"

So much for committment.

**-The Manor-**

We arrived at the Malfoy Manor at precisely nine AM, according to Hagawthe's very expensive-looking watch. We used a portkey, which, at this time, was an old and repulsive- looking handbag. (Repulsive because it was coloured chartruse green with lots of pink sequince.) We revoled a bit, and ended up just inside the gigantic iron gates, fashioned with a huge letter 'M'.

The Manor is about four floors high, and I say "about" because there are other floors that can only be found through magic. There are sculpted hedges- unicorns, hippogriffs, spinxes. The Manor is made of gray stone, is dark and unwelcoming- looking, and is very beautiful.

"Ooh," breathes Rory, and I get the impression that this is her first time at Malfoy Manor.

"Not bad, Malfoy," Lestrange says horsely, slapping Lucius on the back.

Hagawthe turns around and smiles at all of us. "Welcome to our home."

We all file inside, taking in the sight of the dark staricase winding down into the foyer and the very life-like statue of one of Lucius' late relations.

"Hullo, hullo, hullo, hullo!" squeaks a voice breathlessly, and a House Elf dashes down the stairs, sliding to a halt just in front of us. "So sorry we is late, we is. We misjudged time it would take you to get from the gates to the house, horrible Jobby, stupid Jobby, we is!" he clamors, giving a huge bow.

Ah, yes. I recall Jobby from the last time I spent here. Very apologetic, very strange, and _very _mistreated.

"Well," Hagawthe begins, giving us a little shrug as if to apologise for the incompetent service,"_We_ won't do that again, now will we?" With that, he gives the poor thing a very sharp kick in the stomach.

"NO, Master Hagawthe, NO!" squeals the House Elf, doubling over in pain, Bellatrix howling with cruel laughter. "We isn't ever doing that again! We is so sorry!"

Hagawthe snaps his fingers, and our trunks appear. "You know where these things go, you stupid little wretch. _Don't _make another mistake. Later, you may show these guests to their rooms. Now, LEAVE," he snarls, pointing at the luggage.

Jobby then does a very pathetic thing: he bows to every one of us in turn, from Hagawthe to Rosetta, who is at the end. They're all cracking up, like it's the most hilarious thing they've ever laid eyes upon. After this, the House Elf grabs two of the bags, and desperately attempts to climb the stairs.

"I am **so **sorry about that!" Hagawthe breathes in, dramatic like Lucius.

"Don't worry. Ours are worse. They break the china at least once a week," Narcissa snorts. She and Bellatrix snigger. "Kind of mental, those ones."

"Which means I get to hang them from the ceiling upside down with spello-tape," Bellatrix adds. "Really, I _like _it when they make mistakes. Father lets us deal out the punishments."

"She's the most awful. Three of them were in charge of Christmas dinner last year, and-"

" I want to tell it!" Bellatrix grins. "What happened was that the ruddy things had chopped all of the sweet potatoes in cubed cuts, instead of the long way, like they're _supposed _to be served. After all of the directions we give them- can you believe it? So-"

Narcissa squeals.

" _SO, _I got to hack off one of each of their fingers. It was very hysterical!"

Rory laughs. "Cool!" The others seem to agree. All I can think is that I'm glad _I_ don't have to cook at the Black house.

Narcissa tosses back her hair, hitting me in the face. "Of course, Andy thought it was unjust and cruel. She's got such a weak stomach. But we still have hope for her, as she's only a little girl."

"_Where _is Andromeda?" I inquire. "Why isn't she here?" It's the first time I've realised this. I mean, not to be rude or anything, but Andromeda isn't someone you notice. She's quiet and shy, always engrossed in a book.

The two sisters make eye contact.

"She's likely to tell," Bellatrix confides in a quiet voice, which is certainly a change. "She'd tell Sirius, and then he and his little Prep Squad would go to the Ministry. It's better she thinks we're on another Pureblood Marriage retreat. Though hardly believeable, as we've both got our blokes." She kisses Rudolphus instantly.

Narcissa looks wistfully at Lucius.

_They've been **arranged**? But, I thought that Lucius asked her out and it was this whole, great mushy deal a few months ago. ! 'Aren't they cute?' 'Yes, apparently Lucius just **showered **her in roses!' Besides, how could they all ready have their husbands/wives picked out? All right, perhaps Bellatrix and Lestrange, since they're graduating this school year, but Narcissa is fifteen and Lucius is sixteen! How long have they been set up? Surely, Lucius would have at least let me in on a **bit **of this! Perhaps they set them up young so they're guarranteed to keep the Pureblood flowing. Damn, this is sick! I need to remember to ask Lucius if this is all true tonight. Lucius. Basically married? Let me try that again. LUCIUS. BASICALLY MARRIED? This is sick._

Before I can sort any of this out, I see a man at the top of the staircase.

He's got dark, dark hair that's short and wavy, and his eyes are hard and piercing. He can't be younger than forty, but he has a sort of boyish look to his face. His lips are twisted into a thin, thin smile. He's got his hand inside a pocket in his vest, most likely gripping a pocket watch. A long, ebony cloak cascades over his shoulders.

"I _thought _I was hearing voices. Good, I'm not completely mad yet." His mouth spreads out, showing handsome teeth.

Everyone shuts up right then, and their eyes switch onto this stranger. He comes down the stairs, holding the banister, almost regal.

"Finally, Tom. Avoiding us?" Hagawthe kids, but stands up straighter.

The effect this Tom person is having on everyone is a bit eerie. It's like we all suddenly want to act grown up- look attractive and intelligent.

"_Never_."

Lucius seems to have broken the trance, for he beams and waves to Tom. "I'm so glad you're here. I thought we'd have to wait."

"Look who it is!" Tom exclaims, but there's something odd about the lazy way he's coming toward us, as though his voice doesn't match his movement. "Lucius! It seems so long since the last time I saw you! August, was it?"

"Yes, but it seems an eternity!" Lucius declares, and Tom finally reaches us, wrapping an arm around Lucius' shoulder.

"These must be your friends. Delightful!" Tom says. "_Really delightful_," he mutters, but he's paying more attention to rubbing Lucius' shoulder.

"Allow me to introduce this genius," Hagawthe begins, gesturing to Tom like he's King. "This is Tom Marvolo Riddle."

A few of my peers gasp excitedly.

"I knew it was him!" Rosetta says loudly. Everyone claps, so I join in, wondering where I've heard the name before.

"Thank you, thank you," Mr. Riddle says smoothly. He has a very dignified voice. Finally, he removes his arm from Lucius' shoulder. "You may all call me Tom, for the present," he tells us, a small simper claiming his mouth. "My full name may be a bit to remember, but on the days when I forget who I am-" a few of us chuckle, me not included-"I just think Terrific, Marvolous, Radiant!"

_Oh my... _What _is _this guy? He's reminding me of Gilderoy Lockhart, a fifth year Slytherin who really, REALLY irritates me. But Mr. Riddle is worse, as he's an adult. He's also creepy. _He's so phony, _I think to myself, wondering what his story truly is.

Mr. Riddle turns around quickly, as though he's just been shocked, and stares at me.

_Wha- did he hear that? _I think stupidly.

He smiles, and goes back to his little talk, leaving me a bit more than unnerved.

"So, I'd like to welcome you to what I'm calling the Terrific Marvolous Retreat for PureBloods. Our first meeting will take place in the chapel, located just about a mile south of the back entrance to the manor, at noon."

Hagawthe chimes in with," Please follow me to the second great room, where there are refreshments. This will give you a chance to meet other Purebloods and also meet our Mother." He makes a face. "Oh, I'm just joking."

"No, you aren't," mumbles Lucius.

"Should I inform them of the rules just yet, Hagawthe?" Tom inquires primly.

"No. I think that can wait for the meeting, Tom."

I'm beginning to think that this seriously _is_ a cult.


End file.
